


These Kinda Wounds

by TheCriminal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Angst, Drift Compatibility, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Giant Robots, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4696964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCriminal/pseuds/TheCriminal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts deep within the Pacific.</p><p>It starts when giant monsters attack coastlines cities, and the world bands together to survive. It starts with too many lives lost, and then even more dying from the infection of the blue Kaiju blood left behind.</p><p>For Stiles, it starts with his dad being called up by an old army buddy.</p><p>It starts when he decides he wants to be a Ranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Kinda Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on my tumblr [here](http://kilaem.tumblr.com/post/127318114079)

It starts deep within the Pacific.

It starts when giant monsters attack coastlines cities, and the world bands together to survive. It starts with too many lives lost, and then even more dying from the infection of the blue Kaiju blood left behind.

For Stiles, it starts with his dad being called up by an old army buddy.

It starts when he decides he wants to be a Ranger.

 

* * *

 

“Have you and Derek decide what you’re gonna do when you’re on leave?” Scott asks, his head practically buried in the Kaiju pieces he’s slicing.

Derek, as in Derek Hale, the light of Stiles’ life and one of the pilots of the Mark 3 Jaeger, Crimson Alpha.

Stiles shrugs, throwing a peanut into the air and catching it in his mouth. “I don’t know dude, it’s not like we can go anywhere. There could be an attack at any time.”

“So basically you’re saying you’re just going to spend the entire time in bed together?”

Stiles throws a peanut at his head. “Obviously.”

“I hope you’re not getting any Kaiju entrails on my side of the room, McCall,” Lydia snaps from the other side of the lab, the door sliding shut behind her.

Scott looks up from his petri dish with a panicked expression, eyes immediately landing on the taped line that Lydia had insisted on putting down after the third time it happened. Stiles tries not to smile, because after the last time he did when she was trying to be threatening… Well, she’d threatened him with one of the various chemicals that just so happened to be on  _her_  side of the lab.

“No, there are no Kaiju remains on your side,” Scott tells her, going back to his sample.

Stiles sits and watches them work until the sirens start blaring through the Shatterdome, and then he’s running.

Every time a Kaiju comes through the Breach, Stiles has to push against his fear and smile through it when he gets put on the drift.

But nothing compares to the fear he has when one of his friends are sent out.

He can’t stop himself from biting his nails as he waits for Crimson Alpha and the Mark 4 triple-piloted Lunar Delta to come back in, can barely swallow past the lump in his throat as the Kaiju jumps onto Crimson’s back, trying to claw apart the metal.

It ends when Delta’s third arm slices it in half.

 

* * *

 

When he first started training for the Pan Pacific Defence Corps at the fresh age of eighteen, Stiles never could have anticipated being drift compatible with Jackson Whittemore. The first month at the Jaeger Academy, the guy was a complete  _asshole_  until one of the other cadets knocked him down almost immediately when they stepped into the Kwoon Combat Room.

They used to argue and aggressively avoid each other outside of the KCR, until they got into the ring and they were equally matched between their two different fighting styles.

He still isn’t sure who saw their potential, his dad or one of the other higher ups, but they still saw through Stiles’ sarcasm, through Jackson’s egotistical act, putting them together and coming out with two asshole overachievers with issues of inadequacy who were unpredictable enough to make it work.

Graduation day rewarded them with their Mark 5, the Orphan Starlight.

 

* * *

 

The first time Stiles met Derek, they hadn’t gotten on well at all. Derek was co-pilot with his older sister Laura, while their younger sister Cora was one of the best Jaeger mechanics in the world, and Stiles was just fresh out of the Jaeger Academy with Jackson.

They had a lot to prove in the Shatterdome, and Derek’s attitude towards both of them had stewed in Stiles’ mind.

He’d been walking away alone from the mess hall and Derek was going towards it, when Derek shoved his shoulder into Stiles’.

“What the hell is your problem with me, Hale?” Stiles had snapped.

Derek had tensed and turned back to face him, and Stiles was proud of how he held his ground. The dude was intimidating, sue him.

“You want to know my problem, Stilinski?”

“ _Obviously_.”

Derek’s expression wasn’t a kind one, and he shoves into his space and Stiles’ back hits the wall. “I think that you and Whittemore shouldn’t be here making a mockery of this place.”

“I might be young but I can do my damn job,” Stiles hisses, watching Derek’s eyes. “We went through the program like everyone else.”

God, he was beautiful.

_Not now, Stiles._

“Did you? Because Jackson’s parents are  _inlanders_  who like to flash their money at the PPDC. And  _your_  dad has strings everywhere.”

“Really?” Stiles snorts. “My mom  _died_  because the airborne Kaiju blood caused her dementia to kill her in four months instead of six years. You think that after that, my dad wanted me to fight Kaiju? _Fuck you_.”

Derek looks guilty for all of about five seconds before he recovers, eyes drifting over Stiles’ face before he sneers.

“Whittemore is a complete jackass. If you’re his partner, I can’t even begin to imagine what that says about  _you_.”

Stiles had thrown the first punch.

In the heat of the moment, alone together in that empty hallway, one thing was clear when neither of them could get the upper hand.

They were drift compatible.

The realisation made Stiles pause enough for Derek to shove him back against the wall, and Derek looked like he had come to the same conclusion from the way his eyes were darting over Stiles’ face and where his hands were gripping Stiles’ shirt...

And that was when they both tried to kiss each other.

It was messy and it was biting and it was incredible. The way they moved together when they stumbled their way into Derek’s room through slurred apologies, it was… It left Stiles breathless, even to this day, four years later.

So as soon as Derek steps out of Crimson Alpha, Stiles is throwing his arms over his shoulders and clutching him tight, relaxing as Derek’s arms circle his waist.

“I’m alright,” he whispers into Stiles’ ear.

“I know,” Stiles says back, letting all the familiar sounds of machinery and his friend’s voices wash over him.

Laura is safe.

Erica, Boyd, Isaac. All safe.

Derek is safe.

 

* * *

 

Jackson was a seamless part of Stiles’ life as his co-pilot and after four years of drifting together, he was like an older brother more than anything else.

Stiles is eating in the mess hall with their friends when he slides in next to him, trying to steal a potato off of Stiles’ plate and getting a plastic fork dug into his hand in retaliation.

“Stiles, I’m hungry, come on–”

“Go get your own food then,” Stiles shrugs.

“There’s a huge line,” Jackson tries.

Stiles can see Derek’s hand creeping in from across the table, but not doing anything to stop him from taking a potato.

“ _Stiles,_  come on–”

He has to stifle a laugh at the affronted look on Jackson’s face. “He gives me sex, what’s your excuse?”

“How about the fact that I have to  _see_  it whenever we drift?”

There’s laughter from the others at the table, but Stiles can see the wheels in Derek’s head turning.

“That’s not a solid argument. He gets your memories of you and Lydia.”

Stiles smiles brightly at Derek and drags his foot along Derek’s leg as Jackson grumbles and goes to stand in line for food.

He steals Jackson’s potato to make up for the one Derek stole from him, turning back to Lydia’s theory of the possibility of a double event.

It’s something no one wants to think about; when the Kaiju keep getting bigger and smarter every time one comes through the Breach in a shorter amount of time than the one before it.

 

* * *

 

The moment when the sirens go off will always be one of the worst sounds in Stiles’ life, right up there with the sound of a heart monitor flat lining.

Jackson is a few steps behind Stiles when they get up to the elevator. Stiles didn’t get the chance to find Derek before he suited up, but his dad was already in the control room with Danny waiting for them, exhausted but prepared for the 2AM occurrence.

“Stiles, Jackson. Category 4, codename: Snakeskin,” Danny instructed as they started plugging into the Conn-Pod.

The neural handshake into the drift was as easy as breathing as they synced up to the Jaeger, their memories flashing through each other’s minds.

The moment they’re synced, there’s some sort of commotion up in the control room before Stiles can make out Lydia’s panicked voice.

He shoots Jackson a look from the corner of his eye and feels their joint fear.

 _You think we’ll survive this one?_ Stiles asks.

 _Couse we will. We always do_ , Jackson tries to smirk.

“Boys, we’re sending out Allison and Chris in Silver, this one looks bigger on the radar than usual,” his dad’s voice comes through the speakers.

“Hey Dad?” Stiles tries to sound in control, but with Jackson there next to him, he knows it’s okay to show his fear.

“Yeah, Stiles?” His dad’s voice shakes.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Come back in one piece.”

“We will. Tell Derek I’ll see him soon.”

“I will.”

 

* * *

 

Stiles knows that they’re not invincible.

It’s the risk they all take whenever they step into a Jaeger.

The double event Lydia was talking about? It was happening.

The Mark 5 is the fastest Jaeger type ever built, but this is a Category 4 Kaiju, and the biggest one they’ve faced so far.

Silver Strike is nearby, fighting the second Kaiju that came through, codename: Bonecrusher.

Jackson’s presence in the drift is the only thing anchoring him.

They’ve faced Category 4 before, but Stiles can’t shake the bad feeling he has. Jackson may be the dominant pilot because he was a few years older, but when they were in the drift, they weren’t two minds working together as one. They  _were_  one mind.

They’ve always relied on his instinct, and Stiles’ is telling them to survive.

 _Plasma cannons?_ Stiles thinks, meeting Jackson’s eyes as Snakeskin circles them on the radar from underwater.

 _Already charging,_  Jackson nods.

Allison and Chris are managing for now, but Stiles knows that they’re going to need Starlight’s help at causing a distraction to get the upper hand, but they can’t even  _see_  where Snakeskin is under the waves of the dark ocean.

They can’t wait to get a visual on the Kaiju, but the canons are fully loaded and waiting.

Stiles knows that they’re not invincible, but it doesn’t mean he could anticipate the sheer  _agony_ that rips through his body as his Jaeger arm is torn from the machine, and all he can think of is how he didn’t get to see his dad or any of his friends or Derek before he left as the pain overwhelms him.

He can’t hear anything through his screams, and then he can hear his mom.

 

* * *

 

“Jackson!  _Jackson,_  what’s–”

“ _Shut it down_ ,” Jackson is shouting, god, he can’t feel  _anything_ except the pain Stiles is feeling, the burn of the drivesuit as he tries to grapple Snakeskin away from the open Conn-Pod one handed, he’s not losing Stiles, it’s  _not_ going to take him–

He can feel it before it happens, and he starts yelling into the comms. “Stiles is chasing the R.A.B.I.T, _you have to shut us down_!”

There are multiple shouts coming from the speakers before the connection is disconnected, and Jackson is scrambling to unhook himself to get to Stiles.

The halt in their fighting seems to have confused the Kaiju, which is circling them cautiously. Silver Strike is still fighting Bonecrusher, but now they don’t have any backup.

Jackson’s first priority is Stiles, unhooking him from the Conn-Pod and pulling him away from the gaping hole in the side of their Jaeger.

His body is heavy in the drivesuit and Jackson can’t tell his own pain from the pain that ripped through Stiles’ body in the drift.

“Stiles?” He whispers, pulling his helmet away, trying to get a verbal response.

There’s no way he’d be able to feel for a pulse through the drivesuit.

“Jackson!” Comes through the comms, and it pulls him back into reality.

“I– Stiles is unresponsive. The pain from the attack triggered the R.A.B.I.T. I don’t know if he’s okay–”

 _He has to be_ , Jackson thinks. He has to hold it together until they’re safe.

“Whittemore, listen to me,” Stilinski orders. “Lunar Delta is nearly there, can you hold out against Snakeskin on your own?”

“Silver Strike needs assistance–”

“Jackson,” Allison’s voice comes through the shared comms, but he can hear the hitch in her voice. “When you powered down it distracted the two of them- enough for us to rip Bonecrusher’s head off.”

He nods before he remembers they can’t see him, pulling Stiles closer against his chest. “What about Snakeskin?”

“We’re distracting it until Delta gets here,” Chris answers steadily. “We’ll try to keep it away from you until we can take it down.”

Jackson tries to keep himself out of his head, but it keeps tugging at him every time Snakeskin lets out a roar, the feeling of panic and fear and want and  _pain_  before the numbness of the chase, and he presses his forehead to Stiles’ and begs him to be okay.

The next voice that comes through the comms is Chris’ calm voice is calm as he announces the death of Snakeskin and the location for harvest.

They had lured it all the way to land, just to protect him and Stiles.

They can’t lose him when they’re so close to figuring out how to beat the Kaiju forever.

They  _can’t_  lose Stiles.

“Sir?” He asks quietly, taking even breaths.

“Jackson, he’s not–” Danny answers from the control room. “He needed a moment.”

“He… Someone needs to tell Derek. He didn’t get to see him before–” Jackson’s voice catches in his throat. “He needs to know. He’s going to need the closure, just in case.”

Danny is probably coping as badly as everyone else is, but he gives the affirmative.

 

* * *

 

Jackson can barely move when they get back to the Shatterdome.

He doesn’t want to let go of Stiles’ limp body, but they make him and put them both on gurneys even when Jackson tries to insist he doesn’t need to go to medical.

He feels lightheaded and cold, but the need to stay by Stiles’ side is the overpowering factor in it all.

“Jackson, look at me,” he hears distantly. He knows their voice, but he can’t place who it belongs to until Melissa McCall steps in front of him. “You’re going into shock, we need to get you to medical.”

“Is he…” Jackson tries, but it takes too much effort.

“We’ll take care of Stiles.”

Everyone knew what it was like to lose someone, especially in a world like theirs. The last time a Jaeger was decommissioned due to pilot death was Fox Fire just over a year ago. The Kaiju had torn Noshiko right out of the Conn-Pod.

It had been hard on everyone, but Kira… She had almost run and never looked back before she realised she still had family in the Shatterdome. Now she works in weapons tech and has circuitry scars from piloting a damaged Jaeger single-handedly and doesn’t talk about it. Ever.

The thing that no one ever mentions in training is that when you drift, even after the connection has been dropped… You can still feel it, can still feel your partners presence in the back of your head. Like they were still there with you, even though they weren’t.

Jackson doesn’t want to imagine what it would be like to have Stiles ripped away from him like that while they were still in the drift.

Being partnered with Stiles made them  _better_.

He can still feel him and he doesn’t even know if he’s  _alive_.

Something heavy is draped over his shoulders and every noise that reaches him is fuzzy, like he’s underwater.

 _That would be the shock, dumbass_ , Jackson thinks Stiles would say.

He feels so  _cold_.

 

* * *

 

It’s dawn when Jackson comes out of it, and then he’s on his feet and trying to find Stiles’ room. There’s a bandage over half his chest and his left arm, and it doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.

Being burned and scarred from overload of the drivesuit was child’s play compared to the pain Stiles felt in the drift.

He steels himself against thinking  _if_  they gave him a room,  _if_  he was in a condition that was worth saving, and Jackson feels like he can’t breathe when he sees the next occupied room.

The door clicks quietly open and closed as he sneaks in, and his legs go weak at the sight of Stiles lying on the bed, the heart monitor beeping steadily.

Stiles looks so small and fragile with the machinery around him, similar bandages covering his left arm and side.

Jackson pulls a chair close, reaching out to touch his hand and feeling a surge of relief go through him.

Except, as he watches Stiles’ chest slowly rise and fall as he breathes, the guilt starts to creep in.

It eats at him the longer he stays, thinking of all the ways he could have prevented it from happening, the way he could have  _protected_  him like he should have–

The door opening drags his attention away from Stiles, and he shoots a look over his shoulder to see Derek standing there.

Of course.

Derek probably blames him too.

He wouldn’t have gotten Stiles hurt.

“How is he?” Derek asks quietly, not taking his eyes away from Stiles.

“Alive,” Jackson mutters, standing from his seat.

He tries to avoid going near Derek as he heads for the door, but Derek stops him.

“Where are you going? If he wakes up he’s going to want you here.”

“No, he won’t,” Jackson snaps, trying to tamp down on his anger. Another thing Stiles’ influence had brought him. Self control.

“Jackson–”

Derek’s hand circles his wrist and Jackson lashes out at his touch, shoving him against the wall and trying to hold everything back, but he can’t.

He should be stronger than  _this_.

“What do you want me to say? I know you blame me, Hale! I should have been able to protect him!” Jackson shouts, feeling everything come up at once, and he just keeps yelling.

He should have been able to protect him.

He should have made them take a chance against Snakeskin earlier.

He was the dominant pilot and he should have  _acted_.

If he hadn’t of  _waited_  for a goddamn visual–

He wasn’t strong enough.

It was  _his_  fault.

He did this to Stiles, to his friend.

His brother.

“It’s my fault,” he whispers, a sob escaping.

Derek is staring at him with wide eyes and he shakes his head slowly, looking between him and Stiles.

“Jackson, it isn’t your fault. It could have happened to  _anyone_ , that’s the risk we take.” Derek says carefully, and Jackson  _knows_ he’s treating it like one of Stiles’ breakdowns because Jackson has  _seen_  it,  _remembered_  it from the drift.

It makes him feel a little better, strangely.

“It’s my fault,” he says again, because it’s the only thing that he can say.

“No, it’s not. And Stiles would kick your ass for thinking it was.”

He lets go of where his hands have tangled themselves in Derek’s shirt for leverage, trying to ignore how they’re shaking as he leans against the wall and slides into the nearest chair before his legs give out completely.

“How are you so calm?” Jackson asks, focusing on the beep of the heart monitor.

“I’m not,” Derek sighs, taking the chair closest to the bed. “I just pretend I am.”

“You’re really good at pretending,” he comments.

“I didn’t even get to see him, before–” Derek says quietly, and his bowed head gives him away, the slight shake in his shoulders as he cries.

Derek probably blames himself just as much as he does, Jackson realises.

“I don’t know if this will make you feel better or worse, but you were his last thought before the R.A.B.I.T.”

A pained laugh escapes Derek as he strokes the back of Stiles’ hand. “Have you talked to his dad yet?”

“This is the first place I came,” Jackson admits. “I was kind of out of it.”

“Melissa thinks he should wake up by the end of the day.”

Of course, because Stiles is  _Stiles_ , he wakes up around midday, when Jackson and Derek are in the mess hall for lunch because Melissa ended up kicking them out.

 

* * *

 

It’s been four days since he woke up, and Stiles knows the bandages have to come off eventually for Melissa to change. He’s scared about what will be under them though. Jackson’s drivesuit scars don’t look that bad, but it’s not like it was  _his_ Jaeger arm ripped off.

The overload that it caused between the Jaeger and Stiles’ drivesuit meant that the circuitry system had burnt itself over his entire left arm, part of his chest, left side, and back.

It had been agonising when he first woke up.

The beauty of painkillers, right?

Stiles knew it could have been worse, he could have  _died_ , or Jackson could have, or Allison, Chris, Erica, Boyd, Isaac…

Everyone who had been sent out that night could have died, but they were all still alive.

That was more than they could have hoped for.

“You ready, Stiles?” Melissa asks, catching his eyes in the mirror.

“As I’ll ever be,” he sighs, thankful that she’d kicked everyone out to the waiting room.

He doesn’t want them to see, not when he doesn’t know how bad it really is.

She removes the bandages carefully, and Stiles tries not to flinch at the sight of the lines burnt into his skin.

He tries to nod, trying to keep himself together in front of Melissa’s knowing stare, and he holds his head high.

Truth be told, Stiles is trying to channel Jackson. He doesn’t act ashamed of his burns.

Stiles forces himself to keep breathing, and he nods to himself and then to Melissa, and she hesitantly lets his dad and Jackson into the room. 

Jackson shares the same look that Stiles is wearing, and Stiles has been in his head long enough to know that Jackson  _is_  ashamed.

Not of his burns, but of himself.

“You’re an idiot,” Stiles says plainly. “I don’t blame you.”

“Maybe you should,” Jackson grumbles, looking to Stiles’ dad.

Stiles frowns at the looks on his dad’s face, because he knows that look. It was the look he got before he told Stiles that his mom was sick; the look he got when his dad told him he didn’t want him applying for the Academy; the look he got whenever he was sending Orphan Starlight out to fight a Kaiju.

It never meant anything good.

“Son, you might want to sit down,” he says calmly, eyes trained on Stiles’ face rather than his bare chest. “You too, Jackson.”

Stiles looks to Jackson and is met with similar confusion, but they do as they’re told.

“Dad, what is it?”

“The PPDC made the decision to decommission the Orphan Starlight,” he says slowly, like he’s trying to soften the blow. “I was going to tell you sooner, but… There just wasn’t the time.”

Out of all the things Stiles was expecting… This wasn’t it. It made sense of course, with Starlight’s arm being too damaged to repair in between the increasing rate of the Kaiju attacks.

But it still felt like there was a gaping hole in his chest.

Jackson was quiet, staring at his hands which were clenched into fists.

Stiles nudges him with his foot, and Jackson looks up at them.

“You hear that Jackson, they’re firing us,” he tries to smirk. “We’ll need to update our resumes. What kind of job likes people with lifesaving heroics of a magnitude scale for past work experience?”

He sees Jackson’s lips curl into a small smile and Jackson nudges his foot back. “Shut up, Stilinski.”

Stiles smiles and looks back to his dad, who looks guilty and relieved. “I know you know how much I hated you being out there, but… I am sorry. I know how much you loved the Orphan Starlight.”

“If I could hug you I would, Dad.”

His dad nods and touches his uninjured shoulder, nodding before he steps out of the room. As soon as he’s gone, Derek is pushing the door open into the room with Lydia.

Derek’s eyes flit over Stiles’ back in the reflection, before he looks over his front and meets his eyes. He knows Derek has been working out his fear and anger in the training equipment while he’s been stuck in medical (mainly because Melissa shooed him away), and suddenly he’s glad that Melissa kicked him out so that Derek hasn’t been around to see him in pain.

“I love you,” is the first thing out of Stiles’ mouth.

Derek walks over to him and kisses him on the forehead before he sits down next to him and takes his right hand, stroking over the unmarked skin.

“What did your Dad say?”

“Starlight is being decommissioned.  _Has_  been decommissioned.”

Derek is silent, and Stiles sighs.

“You know I would be just as glad as you if the situation was reversed,” Stiles whispers.

“I know,” Derek nods. “I can’t feel sorry about that. Not when it means you’re not fighting them.”

“Promise me that you’ll do everything you can so that you come back alive?”

“I will.”

“Good,” Stiles says.

He leans in a kisses Derek softly, when the alarm starts to go off.

Derek breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against Stiles’ in the few seconds they have left before he has to leave.

“I love you,” Derek murmurs, squeezing his hand before he starts to pull away. “I promise I’ll try come back.”

As soon as he’s gone, Stiles feels like the hole in his chest just doubled in size, and he looks to see Jackson and Lydia saying their goodbyes before she heads for the lab.

“Lydia drifted with Scott after the double event,” Jackson says, looking up at him in confusion. “And… And with the Kaiju brain they harvested from the Kaiju that Snakeskin had been pregnant with.”

“ _What_?”

“They’re going for the Breach,” Jackson says slowly, watching Melissa as she starts to put fresh bandages on Stiles’ body.

Stiles swears, but Melissa forces him to stay in medical until she finishes.

As soon as she’s done, he and Jackson are heading to the control room. The faces of his dad and the other members in the control room says it all, and Stiles is pushing his way into Danny’s space for the comms.

“Derek Hale, if you don’t come back I swear to god, I’m going to kill you. In fact, that goes for all of you. Laura, Silver, Delta. Come back alive.”

There’s laughter through the speakers, and then Laura’s voice comes through. “I’ll take good care of my baby brother, Stiles. Don’t you worry.”

“Derek?”

“Yeah, Stiles?”

“I’ll see you when you get back.”

There’s the sound of a huff of breath from his speaker, which can only mean he’s smiling.

When Stiles turns around, Jackson is talking with Kira, and the way his head jerks is obviously something Stiles needs to know about.

“Kira, tell Stiles what you just told me.”

Kira smiles sadly as she eyes his bandages, but then she turns to the plans she has set out. “Cora and I have been working non-stop with everyone for the past five days. These are all the weapons we never managed to find a place for in the final design. We fitted them onto the Jaegers after we found out the Kaiju were a hive mind. If they’re not expecting it, we have the upper hand… At least, that’s the theory.”

“So we have a chance?” Stiles asks, looking over the various schematics for each Jaeger.

Silver Strike had multiple explosives and incendiaries available for both arm projectile units. Plus the chain-link sword that Stiles knew was originally from Fox Fire’s weaponry system.

Lunar Delta was given a flamethrower from one of the old decommissioned Mark 1 units, which there was no doubt Erica would be happy about. They had also attached saws onto the arms that Isaac and Boyd operated, rather than just Erica’s.

And Crimson Alpha… They had given Derek and Laura the plasma cannons off of the Orphan Starlight. As well as the gun system Stiles and Jackson had never made much use of.

“How many hours of sleep have you all had?” Stiles asks, looking up at Kira.

Kira smiles and shrugs. “We can sleep when the war is over. Besides, it’s not like it was  _just_  me and Cora.”

Stiles smiles, finally feeling like there might be some reason to  _hope_  for the long night ahead of them.

Jackson is next to him the whole time.

 

* * *

 

Several times that night, Stiles felt like his heart had stopped and that his world was ending.

He had half of his family around him, and the other half fighting Kaiju with the possibility of never returning.

His dad, Jackson, Scott, Lydia, Danny, Cora, Kira, Melissa. They were safe.

Derek, Allison, Erica, Laura, Boyd, Isaac, Chris. 

The only Rangers left in the world, fighting for the survival of humanity.

When Laura had been ejected out of their Jaeger, Stiles knew he wasn’t breathing.

The countdown for self-detonation for Crimson Alpha had begun, and it had replaced the sound of the Kaiju Alert System as one of the worst sounds of his life.

Stiles knew he was whispering Derek’s name over and over, pleading for him to get out.

When Derek hits the surface of the Pacific Ocean, Stiles feels like he hasn’t breathedin  _years_.

It was over.

They had all made it.

 


End file.
